Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 440 Gotham: Steady Progress

While the two were talking, Ma Zhaodi keenly noticed that Louis in Toto's arms was shouting something loudly.

"What did she shout?" Ma Zhaodi asked. "Translate that lip reading."

"Boss, boss, she's yelling, 'Titanic! Stop it! Superman isn't a bad guy!' Meow."

"?"

Ma Zhaodi looked completely bewildered. He yanked the silly cat off his head and asked, "How did you get on my head? Weren't you in the system space? And where did you learn lip reading?"

"Boss, what nonsense are you spouting? It's perfectly normal for Palicoes to spawn right next to hunters from anywhere, isn't it? Otherwise, how could we possibly keep up with a flying Pteranodon on foot?"

"No, is this reasonable? System, System Master, look at him."

[This is a fundamental setting for Palicoes; the system has decided to work with this mechanism. You can choose to cancel it.]

"Oh, that's not necessary."

Ma Zhaodi rubbed the silly cat's big face: "This setting is quite interesting - so why can the silly cat read lips?"

"Boss, I'm a genius cat!"

Upon hearing this, Ma Zhaodi looked suspiciously at the cat's clear yet foolish beady eyes, and after staring at it for a few seconds, he began to question his own existence—could it really be a genius?
"Hey, I won't go with it, Sanbengzi. Didn't you say it was called Toto?"

"That's what the report says, but Louis did call it 'Titanino' just now. Maybe he saw that it had gotten bigger and renamed it."

"Boss, boss, should we go help him? This monster looks like a giant version of the Golden Lion, I don't think we can beat it, meow."

“Where does it resemble a lion?” Ma Zhaodi asked. “Don’t just look at an orangutan and say it looks like a golden lion. The golden lion just doesn’t look like a lion. There are still differences between it and an orangutan.”

"In short, Superman is basically incapable of losing this battle." Ma Zhaodi clapped his hands. "Let's go. I'll show you two around Gotham City and explain the situation here to you. Dumbo, act like a cat. Don't teleport yet. The people here aren't quite in a normal mental state yet. I'm afraid you'll be targeted."

"Boss, no problem, meow."

However, what reassured Ma Zhaodi was that the security situation in Gotham City was indeed much better than before. Although you could still see citizens getting into passionate fights on the street over a disagreement, at least they weren't using guns this time.

"The functions of the legal system are being restored," Ma Zhaodi thought to himself. "Before, nobody would care if someone pulled out a gun and started shooting people on the street, so everyone seemed to have a lot of martial spirit. Now that the courts and the Gotham Police Department are starting to strengthen supervision and punishment, there have been far fewer violent incidents."

In addition, Ma Zhaodi could see many old and dilapidated buildings in the slums being demolished and rebuilt along the way, and a considerable number of the people working were prisoners in prison uniforms, working very hard. Ma Zhaodi was quite convinced that the low cost of hiring these prisoners would greatly alleviate the financial pressure on Bruce's Gotham reconstruction plan.

“Gotham City’s reconstruction plan is progressing quite quickly.” Ma Zhaodi looked around at the vast expanse of cleared land and scattered new buildings and exclaimed in amazement: “In just two months, the first batch of buildings have already been completed.”

"Speed ​​is taken for granted."

A familiar voice, a familiar figure—a bald man with a fierce expression picked up where Ma Zhaodi left off. When he turned to look, he saw that although the man was wearing prison clothes, he had two pistols tucked into his waistband.

That was none other than Clinton Banner, the madman who hadn't been seen in a long time, chasing after Ma Chaodi and Drake on the Death Bus and shooting wildly, but who later helped him fight the Joker.

"Ha, an old acquaintance." Ma Zhaodi smiled with a hint of surprise: "How have you been doing in prison?"

"Hmph, it's just so-so. There are too many rules. The only fun part is beating up a few troublemakers inside."

"Let me test you, you didn't escape, did you?" Ma Zhaodi asked warily. "You helped me deal with the Joker, and you even helped discipline criminals. You only got two years in total, and you were working as a prison guard—don't tell me you're going to betray me for that." "I'm too lazy to run away," Clinton waved his hand impatiently. "Gotham City's streets are full of criminals right now. I have to go out seven times a week for my regular job. Prison guards can even take turns leaving the prison for meals. What's the point of escaping?"

Ma Zhaodi finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"The salary is alright?"

“Mine is alright, but those bastards are not so good.” Clinton mocked, “See? They’re all former big shots, now hardened criminals. Their wages are barely enough to get by in prison, enough to buy a pack of cigarettes or something, but the rest is all deducted for reduced sentences and labor.”

"Reduction of sentence labor."

“If a building is completed, the sentence will be reduced by five years. If there are quality problems, the sentence will be reinstated and additional sentences will be imposed.”

Clinton took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out and offered it to Ma Zhaodi. When Ma Zhaodi waved his hand in refusal, Clinton didn't mind and put it in his own mouth.

"I came here to be a supervisor, and I have to catch the people who are cheating on the workers in order to get their sentences reduced. But these bastards have all become smarter. They know that reducing their sentences means spending less money in prison. They're all as honest as can be. All the arrogant and manipulative faces they used to have are gone. It's really shameful."

"You have to choose between substance and appearance." Ma Zhaodi shrugged. "At least you have enough intimidation power. You can't be a prison guard without some skills."

"What about that bastard you were with the other day?" Clinton then asked. "I haven't seen him on the street in ages. Is he dead?"

"He ran away. Gotham was too chaotic before, so he didn't dare stay long. He might come back in a while—by the way, what happened to old Jack, the bus driver?"

"That old man? He was sentenced to five years and now he's a driving instructor at the prison's driving school, teaching people how to drive big trucks. A large portion of the prisoner logistics drivers in Gotham City are trained by him."

Clinton took a deep drag on his cigarette and continued, "He's very lucky to live to the death with old Jack Big Bus without having to worry about being killed by stray bullets."

"Oh, Clinton!"

Just then, the foreman next to him shouted, "We've finished today's work, time to go home and head back to prison!"

"Got it, come right now."

Clinton casually agreed and patted Ma Zhaodi on the shoulder: "Let's go, talk again next time."

Ma Zhaodi waved his hand, turned around for a while, and then went back to his rented room.

"Gotham is a bit better than before. That's good."

With that thought in mind, Ma Zhaodi subconsciously glanced at the clock tower outside the window, and then peacefully drifted off to sleep.

"Boom boom boom, boom boom boom!"

Startled awake by the knocking, Ma Zhaodi opened his eyes in a daze. He pushed the dazed cat off his face and ran to open the door, where he saw a familiar face wearing glasses standing by the bed.

"Clark?! What are you doing in my house?"

"Old Ma, I need your help!"

(End of this chapter)